Sanctuary
by Andromeda Khun
Summary: Chapter 2: This dark future has only one possible end...


Author's Note

House: Eagles

Class: Care of Magical Creatures

Category: Bonus

Prompt: Creature: Dementor

Word Count: 1519

Chapter 2

A door creaked, and Dean immediately shot to his feet. After looking around the room with wide, worried eyes, he slowly exhaled and sat back heavily in his chair. Two weeks had passed since the Battle of Hogwarts, but every time he heard an odd sound, his heart jumped. Two weeks, and Voldemort still had not found them. In fact, Dean was not even sure the Death Eaters were looking for them. Nonetheless, it was dangerous to leave the crypt, but many witches and wizards still did, often stepping outside simply to Apparate away. After all, there wasn't any way to grow food down in the crypt, and with Gamp's Law of Transfiguration they couldn't transfigure any… and witches and wizards, no matter how magical, still had to eat.

Dean massaged his temple. Although he hadn't realized it at first, the others had made him their de facto leader. Something about the decisive action he had taken, saving their lives after the Battle of Hogwarts, had convinced everyone that he knew what he was doing. However, he didn't know how he was going to deal with their current problems.

From the newspaper articles Luna had been bringing back from their brief excursions outside of the crypt, all of England had fallen to Voldemort. The Daily Prophet sang his praises, and even the Quibbler (of course no longer under Xenophilius's control) had a grinning picture of Lucius Malfoy plastered across its front page. The new order didn't seem particularly fragile, and it wouldn't go down without a fight. Dean just didn't know if the people he had here in the crypt, people who had watched their friends and loved ones be brutally cut down in battle only two weeks ago, would be able to fight again.

Charlie was already planning attacks, making himself indispensable as Dean's right hand man. Dean didn't know where he got this energy from, or his desire for bloody, gory revenge. Dean was just struggling to get through each day, maintaining the facade of a caring, competent leader.

But sometimes, it just felt so hopeless.

Who was he fooling? He wasn't a leader, he was just keeping these witches and wizards from their inevitable deaths. Even if they believed in him, they would fail.

A wave of biting cold rippled through him, and he shivered.

They were going to die. Here in this crypt. It was inevitable. Padma and Susan were already broken shells, Luna refused to talk, and only Charlie had returned to his usual self. Soon enough, though, Charlie get that dull light in his eyes and he went through his day, empty and hopeless like everyone else in this crypt. They were cornered, huddling in the darkness like cockroaches. Any day now, the Death Eaters would discover and destroy them. Then Dean would be exposed as the fraud he was: the incapable leader, leading what remained of the DADA and the Order of the Phoenix to their deaths.

He shuddered, watching how in this cold, his breath appeared as a thick white cloud. It was beautiful, billowing out before him, one bright, clean mist in the ice-cold, dingy crypt.

Then his eyes widened. It shouldn't be this cold. This cold, which had sunk deep into his bones, could only be explained by one thing. Dementors. Trying desperately to summon any shred of a happy memory, Dean staggered toward the door, sluggish, as though he were swimming through icy water.

There were children in the crypt. They often played in the outermost rooms, enjoying the fresh air and weak sunlight. They had to be terrified. His office was near the entrance, so if he hurried, he could save them. Assuming the Dementors had not already found them.

Despair clouded his mind and his limbs felt like stone, but still he shuffled forward.

That's when the voices started. He could hear Seamus shouting at him, his voice raw, shouting at him to just _get back_, his last words before the Killing Curse hit him and he crumpled, like a puppet whose strings were cut far too soon. The memory hit him like a punch in the gut - Seamus had sacrificed himself so that Dean could live, and how had Dean used that gift, that gift of life? By leading everyone away, into this crypt, where they were going to die without a fight.

It was with great difficulty that Dean silenced the Dementor's whispers that dredged up his fears, doubts, and insecurities. He set his mouth in a determined line. By Merlin, after surviving the past year, he was _not_ going to die to Dementors. Not when Harry had taught them how to protect themselves back in fifth year.

In a sudden flash of clarity, he remembered that day, their DADA meeting where Harry had insisted on teaching them how to produce a Patronus. He and Seamus had paired up, laughing and joking around as they tried the spell, and then finally Seamus cast, and a happy, glowing fox had appeared, trotting around the room before disappearing with a _pop_. In that frozen moment, the world had seemed hopeful, full of life and happiness.

Dean took that moment, savoring it as best he could, and pushed that joy into this broken world as he bellowed, "_Expecto Patronum_!"

He didn't expect it to work - it hadn't, that day long ago when he stood laughing with Seamus - but this time, a glowing white bobcat burst from his wand, leaping forwards.

Dean stood there for a moment, shocked. Then, for the first time in two weeks, he grinned. Strength surged to his legs, and he started running down the corridor.

"The children will be fine." he muttered as he ran. The Dementors couldn't have gotten too far into the crypt. Except… if the Dementors had sensed the happiness of the children — no. The children would be fine. Everyone would be fine, now that his Patronus Charm worked.

As he turned a corner, a torrent of misery struck him. He knew his Patronus must have protected him from most of it, but even so, sorrow began to weigh upon him, and his silvery bobcat flickered. Carefully, Dean focused on his happy memory again. If he let it slip away, there would literally be no hope.

He stepped forward, footsteps echoing. "Anyone! Anyone up here? We need to run- Quickly now, we have to evacuate—"

He turned the corner, and there it was, a thing of shadows, darkness, and decay. Its wispy black robes floated around it, obscuring the dark shape that hung before it, possibly held up in its arms, if Dementors had such things.

The Dementor breathed, a horrible rattling sound, and from that limp body came a glowing yellow ball that slowly floated into the creature's mouth. In the bright yellow light, Dean could see the emptiness within the Dementor, then it shut its mouth, and the light disappeared.

The body hanging in the Dementor's arms became more limp, if that was even possible. Then the Dementor let go, and it dropped as though it were a puppet whose strings had been cut. It lay there, splayed on the floor, its mop of red hair visible to Dean even though he stood across the room.

It was Charlie Weasley. Charlie Weasley had been Kissed.

Dean stood, shell-shocked, looking at the lifeless body lying there on the ground.

Then he noticed the other Dementors, and the pool of empty-eyed, smaller shells already discarded on the ground. And Luna Lovegood, standing there, frozen, against the wall. Luna Lovegood, who had once been so full of quirks and imagination. But, like many of the people in the crypt, she was different now. After the Battle of Hogwarts, she had been like a blank slate, moving mechanically, never speaking. Most days, Dean would find her sitting in the tunnel to the caves, staring into the emptiness. She had probably tried to cast a Patronus to save the children, but could not remember happiness.

Impossibly, standing against the wall, Luna opened her mouth and spoke for the first time since the Battle, "...Dean."

Dean didn't answer; instead, he and his bobcat rushed over. Slinging Luna over his back, he hissed, "We need to get out of here. Just let me carry you. We can hide in the cave system—"

"Dean. There are children that are still alive." She pointed a trembling finger at the floor behind the Dementors. Sure enough, Dean could see small twitching bodies on the ground.

Tears blurred his vision, but he whispered, "We can't save them. My Patronus isn't powerful enough."

Luna closed her eyes and gave a sharp nod. So, with Luna on his back, Dean started running, running for another cave, running for another faint trace of hope. But he slowly realized that there was _no more hope_. His bobcat flickered again, then faded away. Dean sagged to his knees and wept as the coldness began to spread over him. Dimly, he could see Dementors—he could see death—approaching.

And he wept, for he knew he would not see Seamus again. Seamus was with the heroes.


End file.
